


I Contain Multitudes

by Traillbits



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade
Genre: Halloween Gift Exchange, Kleptomania, Vampire Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27320926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traillbits/pseuds/Traillbits
Summary: One newborn Kindred's average evening lifestyle and inner quirks that follow where she goes.
Kudos: 1





	I Contain Multitudes

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the 'Pumpkin Art Exchange' within the Vampire: The Masquerade "Lacroix's thots" discord. I was given their Malkavian OC to write about named Iris. Here are the two descriptions and visual references for their OC that I used https://imgur.com/a/ICs2Qiw
> 
> To my giftee, I do hope you like it! 
> 
> It was not made clear to which domain Iris resides in so I left it and the Prince unnamed and open for interpretation.

All objects, things, but what Iris considered to be ‘treasures’ were pretty in the moment. But at the end of the day-or the evening in her case-all these pretty trinkets and doodads entertained a transient and flat existence. 

But that didn’t mean the Malkavian could not gently pet or pocket the treasures she found to be most delightful. After all, they’re existence was short and fleeting unlike hers. 

They deserved love and affection. 

Iris thought the same thing prior to her Embrace, only back then she would liberate simple niceties to her keen eye. She still had a drawer jammed with shiny keychains, three pairs of sunglasses, a package of razors, bags of bite size candies, even two cartons of cigarettes-nevermind the fact that she never smoked. 

She never stole because she had to, not overly successful before death but her life was manageable enough that thievery was not required to put food on the table-even the sweets she stole were unopened and still contained in their original package. She knew people who did this that had no choice, those that would pick the locks of suburban houses for a meal, break into a car and steal whatever was in the glove box to consume or sell.  
Did it make her feel guilty? Not really. 

After the Embrace however, the Neonate felt as though she had this need to pocket what she desired just as those desperate unfortunates had. But again, this was not out of a necessity for survival, it was just this itchy urge that overcame her whenever Iris tried to stop herself. The itch felt as though it had turned into a rash when she tried to suppress it.

Sometimes the pretty treasures joined her original collection, another edition to the drawer. But other occasions the lovelies were too shiny to hide away in the nest. Once Iris took a liking to a pair of green barrettes with purple polka dots that were now nestled in her long, thick hair. One of the newest editions to the multitude of keychains was very very pretty! There was a bird on it, what kind the Malkavian had absolutely no idea. 

Sparrow? Robin? Not a clue! 

But below the bird was a name, one of those generic keychain brands that had every baby name in the American language from A to Z. This one in particular said ‘Mandy’.  
Iris tried to imagine a Mandy carrying this, tonight she could pretend to be Mandy. She wondered if Mandy liked birds, unlike this Kindred she could probably a name a few that varied in shape and color. 

She had to acquire it regardless of the fact that Iris had no use for a keychain, never carrying a purse or keyring. But she kept the Mandy bird in her pocket all the same-or in her shoe if she found herself without a pocket. 

While it was argued she stole blood, that was the only real necessity she now required. And if it was something she needed, was it really stealing? There were limiting options to how she could attain the fresh vitae after all. 

Iris would take what she needed with the willing or rather the unexpected ones that became ‘willing’ she crossed paths with, but only what was needed. The Beast her long absent Sire had foretold her about she didn’t fear. The only real tension she felt was when she would whisk her treasures away, and someone suspicious to her or not would try to engage with her. 

The Malkavian would attempt to appear an expression of stoic normalcy, but inside she was screaming to run. Given the option of fight or flight, it was always flight. Iris had a habit of fiddling with her jacket zipper or an invisible loose thread on her skirt, before ducking out of whatever shop or establishment she was cornered in. 

The hardest moments were when she did this before safely securing her prize in a free pocket or her shoe. 

When these rare occasions occurred she would find herself cursing uncontrollably, verbally unleashing her frustrations to no one in particular-despite how loud and agitated she became to passersby. The disappointment that her twinkling gems were in there and she was out here was unpleasant. 

It continued to nag at her until the sun rose and the Neonate fell into torpor induced rest within the dark confides of where she laid down her head. When the Malkavian awoke to join the other Kindred that walked the streets at sundown, a new treasure would take the place of the sought after one she failed to claim.

It was an endless loop, but one that gave Iris some comfort. She had all the time in the world now, and so more than ever she craved these tiny comforts that fit in the palm of her hand.

She cared not for politics, she had no reason to give a toss one way or the other as a human so why should she now?

Her Sire was coerced into introducing the newly undead kleptomaniac to the city’s Prince. They were nothing Iris would stare twice at and rather annoying actually to her ears. They claimed to own every inch of what this domain held.

‘But not my treasures!’ She thought but chose not to say aloud as the much older Kindred rattled off more facts about how much better they were than everyone else. Iris wasn’t one for confrontation, just standing here awkwardly made the Malkavian want to fiddle with that invisible thread again. Social etiquette was never her strong suit, the few nights she thought of her Sire she tried to recall just how she became acquainted with them in the first place. 

But back to this little meet and greet. All the Prince had prattled on about to her was “…importance of the Camarilla…” this, “Upholding the Masquerade…” that. 

She neither disagreed or agreed, but politics were so boring, and there were no shinys that piqued her interest during this visit. Maybe the ballpoint pen that looked very sad and abandoned on the mahogany table, but Iris didn’t want to feel sad too if she picked it up. 

Though her mind was reeling with woes and curses anyway for not snatching said trinket after Iris was escorted out nevertheless. She would probably never cross paths with the Prince again, she was very much ok with this unspoken fact. 

She felt similar yet mixed feelings when she came across some of the many Anarchs in town. They were not the same in the Prince’s greedy ideals but primarily in the way these Rabble Kindred gathered and operated. Both Camarilla and Anarch alike had their own support networks, just the latter chose not to flaunt it about. Iris could perhaps see much more clearly where their anger and oppression stemmed from, but she also didn’t like that red burning rage. It was like the sad pen; she didn’t want to feel angry either. Happy and safe with her twinkling treasures was more than enough to appease her in this newfound existence. She may have frequented the Elysium establishments the Anarchs held within the city, but often the lonely Neonate kept to herself. 

With her pocket size lovelies to keep her attention and company, what more could she possibly desire or need? 

Soon the sun would peak over the horizon, by that point Iris safely enclosed in her small haven. The cycle would continue anew when the cover of night would begin all over again. 

There were still so many more shinys for her to choose from.


End file.
